


on first and fierce affirming sight

by peacefrog



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Angst, Idiots in Love, M/M, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-14 01:58:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18043277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacefrog/pseuds/peacefrog
Summary: Eliot tried to keep track of the days, deep down knowing it was a futile effort. Time worked differently locked away in one bright corner of his mind.





	on first and fierce affirming sight

Quentin gazed up at the moon, and it felt so wrong now that there should be only one. He felt a thousand years removed from Fillory, but it was the sky that always got him. And often, the scent of the air. And Eliot was not beside him.

He took one last drag from his cigarette and crushed it under his boot, turned his back on the empty sky, went back into the apartment.

—

There was a time he was okay with it. Quentin had gone to him, that first night after they’d remembered. “Just tonight. Please,” he’d said. “I don’t want to sleep alone.”

And Eliot had peeled back the covers, let Quentin crawl right in. Chest-to-chest, they’d held each other like lovers do. And the next day they didn’t speak of it. And the day after Quentin bargained with himself. Eliot was still in his life. They’d been friends for so long. He could learn to live like this.

Now, a monster wearing Eliot’s face popping in and out of his days, Quentin just wanted to go back. To be brave instead of shrinking at the first sign of Eliot’s doubts. How different things might be, he wondered, if only he had made him see.

—

Eliot tried to keep track of the days, deep down knowing it was a futile effort. Time worked differently locked away in one bright corner of his mind. He could conjure up his friends here in the blink of an eye. Margo on their first day together, in that red dress and she couldn’t stop laughing. Quentin drunk and pouting on the sofa. Quentin passionately rambling on about Fillory in the corner. Quentin exhausted and falling asleep on his shoulder.

Charlton looked up at him from the book he’d found tucked under the sofa cushion. “This book is very confusing.”

Eliot gave him a little smile. “Sorry. I only read the Wiki.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“It means you’d have been much better off being locked in here with Margo.” Eliot sighed and made his way to the bar. “But it is some small mercy that my happy place cocktails remain true to life as ever.”

Eliot made two dry martinis, and the remembrance of Quentin in Brakebills South white appeared at his side. “How is it you always have drinks waiting for us?”

Eliot handed Quentin a glass. “Now this is what I would call a generous memory.”

The memory of Quentin sipped his martini. “Is that what I am to you? Just a memory?”

“For now, unfortunately.” Eliot blinked and they were sitting in front of the fire, whiskey in hand. 

“You can kiss me again if you want to,” said Quentin’s memory. His long hair was half pulled back, half falling into his eyes.

“I appreciate the offer, Q, but at this point it wouldn’t really be much more than mental masturbation.”

“Fair enough. But maybe…” Quentin’s voice went soft in that way that always tugged at Eliot’s heart. “Maybe you’d like to practice what you’re going to say to me?”

Eliot looked around, and there was nothing but memory. “Charlton?” No answer. Eliot sighed and looked to Quentin.

—

“So, I’m reading about possession,” said Julia, looking at Quentin from behind her laptop.

“Like… spinning heads puking pea soup possession?”

“Yeah. I mean, I figured same concept, right? Our monster, whatever he is, needs a host just like a demon.”

Quentin shut the book in front of him. “That’s… actually really smart.

Julia shot him a little smile. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I didn’t—Just, go on. Tell me.”

“So there’s all these cases of possession where people come to after their exorcism—”

“‘Wait. Do you think the priests are using magic?”

“Probably. That’s not the point. So they come to and they say they don’t remember anything that happened to their bodies while they were possessed.”

“So like a big blank spot then?”

“No.” Julia shut her laptop. “They say they were… somewhere else. Somewhere familiar. A few of them referred to it as their happy place.”

Happy place. The words twisted a knot in Quentin’s belly. “So you think that’s what the monster did? Shoved Eliot off to some fantasy?”

“It would make sense. Box him up somewhere so he can’t fight back.”

“Yeah, well, he popped that lock at least once. Maybe he can do it again.”

“He could. He might.” Julia smiled. “But what if we could find a way in?”

—

“I could say anything to you, Q, and it wouldn’t matter. Talking to myself is getting me nowhere.”

They’d moved to the floor in front of the fire. Quentin’s memory sat close, his body warmer than the flames. “Yeah, well, it’s all you have right now, isn’t it? It’s either this or memory-drinking until you blackout.”

“Not true, Q. I could do memory coke with the memory Margolem. Or I could talk to Charlton.”

“Do you want to talk to Charlton?”

Eliot looked around, grimacing a little. “I could teach him things. Maybe. He knows what fuck is now, so we have that in common.”

Quentin rested the memory of his head on Eliot’s shoulder. “You’re hiding, El. Even in here you’re hiding from me.”

Eliot slid his palm along the curve of Quentin’s thigh. “When I get out of here, I’m going to make it right. Already promised you that.”

“How will you make it right? What will you say to me?”

“I… I don’t know, okay? Words feel inadequate. I guess I could just kiss you. I know that you would let me. But you deserve so much more than that. A kiss isn’t going to fix… anything.”

The memory of Quentin’s lips against his ear. “I’d let you do anything to me,” he purred.

Eliot peeled himself away, moved back to his chair . “Okay. I know it’s been… a while. But I am not having sex with the memory of you. The next time I know that pleasure I intend for it to be the real thing.”

“Okay.” Quentin rested his head against Eliot’s knee.

Eliot raked his fingers through Quentin’s hair. “I think it’s time for you to go now, Q.”

“Okay.”

Eliot blinked, and the memory of Quentin was gone.

—

The moon again, and Julia beside him, rolling a joint with steady fingers. “I choose to believe Josh left this behind because he wanted us to relax.”

Quentin’s head pounded and his eyes ached. Yeah, this probably wasn’t the worst idea. He watched Julia light the joint, take a drag, pass it his way with smoke streaming from her mouth. Quentin pulled smoke deep into his lungs, exhaled slowly, passed the joint back to Julia. “Do you really think this spell is going to work?”

“Guess we won’t know ‘til we try.”

“Even if I can break in it’s not like I can take him out with me. Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

Julia passed the joint and smiled softly. “I think it would be good for you to see him.”

“Why’s that?”

“I saw a lot when I still had my goddess powers.”

Oh. Quentin’s face flushed, his head swimming. “Define a lot.”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“I’m not embarrassed, Jules. But some things are private. Like—”

“Like spending fifty years with someone in Fillory?”

“Yeah. I think that qualifies.” Quentin hit the joint again. “I don’t even know why I remember.”

“Time is funny like that. And you remember because it mattered.”

The singular moon in the sky seemed to pulse. Quentin covered it with the palm of his hand. “A world without Eliot doesn’t make any sense.”

Julia rested her head on Quentin’s shoulder, and there was nothing more to say.

—

“The memory coke is definitely working, Charlton, but do you think a memory overdose is a thing?”

Charlton furrowed his brow. “I’ve never taken drugs, memory or otherwise.”

“You’re… fun.” Eliot gave a tight little smile and looked over at the Margolem next to him.

“Are you choosing to remember a fake version of your friend for a reason?”

“I’m glad you asked, Charlton. Yes. The real memory Margos suddenly won’t stop asking me about my feelings. And I find her whimsical.”

The Margolem laughed and Charlton frowned. “What about your friend Quentin?”

Eliot sighed. “You know, Charlton, there is a whole second floor to my happy place if you ever feel like exploring.”

Before Charlton could answer with anything more than a sad and vaguely confused expression, there was a knock on the door. “You shouldn’t answer it,” he said.

Eliot eyed the door curiously. “I answered it for you.”

“Anything else out there is a monster.”

Eliot turned to the Margolem. “Will you get it? And if it’s something with claws and teeth that starts going for the eyes can you maybe let it tear you apart outside the door? Thanks.”

The Margolem smiled and went to the door. She opened it with a blank expression and stepped aside for their visitor to enter. She stepped away and Quentin shut the door quickly behind himself. 

“Q.” Eliot stood, cocking his head to the side. “You’ve never knocked before.” He looked to Charlton. “Do remembrances have to knock now?”

“Eliot.” Quentin rushed into the room, wide-eyed, his chest rising and falling quickly. “Hey.”

“Your hair… I’ve never… had this remembrance of you before.”

“Listen, I may only have a couple minutes.” Quentin touched him and he felt it with his whole body, real and warm and alive in a way entirely unlike a memory.

“Q. Shit.” Eliot pressed his hand to the center of Quentin’s chest. It was an instinct he didn’t understand, the need to feel his heart ticking there. “How are you here right now?”

“Julia cooked up a spell. She’s distracting the monster and I really hope it’s working. Turns out he’s really into violent video games.”

Eliot laughed, a sound free and pure ringing from his chest. “Are you here to get me out?”

Quentin gripped the front of Eliot’s shirt, gazing up into his eyes. “I’m working on it, El. I want you to know we’re doing everything that we can, okay?”

“Okay.” Eliot swallowed around the lump growing in his throat. Eyes still firmly locked with Quentin’s he said, “Charlton, can we have some privacy please? And take the Margolem with you.”

“Is that…” Quentin watched Charlton as he walked from the room.

“Yes. Our monster is quite fond of holding onto his former hosts. My body dies—”

Quentin pressed closer. “That’s not going to happen.”

“Okay. Okay.” Eliot took Quentin by the nape, thrumming with life beneath his hand. “There’s so much that I need to say to you. I was an idiot, Q.”

Quentin smirked. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Eliot’s smile stretched across his face, his eyes damp now. “Shut up. You know what I mean. You know.”

Quentin slid his hands up Eliot’s chest to grip his shoulders. “El…”

“If I make it out of here, Q—”

“When. When you make it out.”

“Yeah.” Eliot swallowed down the emotion threatening to choke him. “Q, I promise—”

And as quickly as a gasp drawing from his lungs, Eliot’s arms were empty, his body cold, and Quentin had vanished as quickly as he had come.

—

Quentin shivered as he opened his eyes. Across the sofa, the monster wearing Eliot’s skin smiled blankly as gunfire rang out from the television. 

“Quentin,” said the monster flatly. He was wearing a bright purple t-shirt with a sloth on the front. “Is everything okay? This game is fun.”

The sound from the game was like a jackhammer to Quentin’s heart. He launched his body from the sofa and all but ran to the kitchen, hunched over the sink certain he was going to be sick.

Quick on his heels, Julia rubbed a hand across his back. “Hey,” she whispered. “Did it work? It just looked like you were sleeping.”

“It worked. It worked. I saw him.” Quentin gripped the edge of the counter. “I saw him, but I couldn’t hold on. I just got ripped right out. He was trying to tell me something.”

“Q…”

The monster appeared beside them. “Quentin. Come play with me.”

Quentin straightened his back, and beside him Julia tensed. He couldn’t stand to look the thing in its eyes. In Eliot’s eyes. “I’m coming,” he said. “Go on. I’ll be right behind you.”

His stomach turning, and Julia’s hand in his hand, Quentin followed the monster back to his game.

**Author's Note:**

> So my brain seems to want to churn out nothing but sad mid-season 4 things featuring Julia being the smartest person in the room as always and I'm so sorry. I swear one day they're going to be happy...


End file.
